


harangue

by clayisforgirls



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4382819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clayisforgirls/pseuds/clayisforgirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cheers around the stadium, thankful for his one last try though it wasn't quite good enough for them, always wanting that tiny bit more, wanting a winner, not just someone who's second best.</p><p> </p><p>Originally posted in November 2006. Takes place at (a now fictional) 2009 US Open, inspired by Dictionary.com's Word of the Day for November 5th, 2006.</p><p>harangue, noun:<br/>1. A speech addressed to a large public assembly.<br/>2. A noisy or pompous speech; a rant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	harangue

Andy's always imagined it would be just like this.

Maybe not quite like this, because he's always imagined winning the tournament again, smiling under the lights as tears threaten to spill from his eyes as he talks, much like the first time. Except this time it'd be different, the end, no longer America's only hope. They've got others for that now; he's past his prime and knows it.

The plate is cold against his hands as he steps up to the microphone, biting his lip so hard he swears he can taste blood, but a finger pressed to his lips reveals nothing. Cheers around the stadium, thankful for his one last try though it wasn't quite good enough for them, always wanting that tiny bit more, wanting a winner, not just someone who's second best.

Words tumble out, gripping the plate so tight he swears he'll find fingerprints denting the metal later, and when he stops himself he's met with a deafening silence, a silence he's always known would happen, because he's too young to retire, he's barely twenty-seven, but another year of surgery isn't what he wants, can feel that twinge in his shoulder already.

A warm hand on his shoulder, and he knows it's Roger. Couldn't be anyone else and he accepts the embrace almost timidly at first, his opponent, his lover, the only one who'd known beforehand that this would be his last match. And he'd made it a match, neither of them giving up until the very end, and he'd been so tired he hadn't been able to keep it up any longer.

Something murmured softly in his ear and he nods, not having paid any attention because he can't right now, the crowd are behind him again, cheering, clapping, and he pulls away from Roger, waves to them, thanks them with more than a wobble to his voice.

And they don't stop, a brilliant smile appearing on his face, because it's exactly how he knew it would be.

Not quite perfect, but then he knows now that nothing is.


End file.
